Not Just An Elf
by Quarter Past Wonderful
Summary: More than two decades later, the death of those lost in the war against evil are still remembered, and one snowy night Harry reminisces about a close friend with his son, Albus.


**A/N: Hopefully this one wasn't too sad – I seem to be writing a lot of sad fics these days, sorry! I actually meant for this one to come out a little bit more depressing than it did, but I think it ended up being more peaceful. Characters, even Dobby, (whom I adore) belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, this story contains spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Anyways, hope you like it! **

"Now really, Bill, I don't know _why_ you insisted on having everyone over for Christmas dinner. Your father and I have been having everyone over for _years_ now and we've managed just fine... and besides, the Burrow is much larger than this silly cottage of yours..."

"Mum," said Bill patiently, with the air of one who has explained himself several times, "I just thought it'd be a nice change. Fleur and I don't mind a bit and – "

"A change? But we don't need a cha..."

Giggling slightly at her mother's typical reluctance to change, Ginny waved at Hermione and Ron and ushered her children forward past their arguing relatives. They stumbled sleepily, still tired from the long train ride home from Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday. They predictably perked up when they saw their cousins, however.

"Hugo! Rose!" Lily called out, ecstatic at seeing her cousins, even though she had been with them for the entire train ride home. Hugo came rushing forward, followed more slowly by his sister, who dropped the book she was reading to greet her cousins. James joined the trio, and soon they were all chattering animatedly about the Christmas gifts they wanted, sleepiness forgotten.

"Did you hear about the latest Lightningquick model? The Lightningquick 3000!" said James with reverence to Hugo, who's tiny eyes grew large and impressed.

Lily giggled, rolling her eyes. "You'll never get it," she said in a sing-song voice. "Because they're gonna buy it for _me_!"

James snorted. "Like _you'd_ get one. You don't even need a broom, and first-years can't even make the house teams!"

"You've already got a perfectly good broom, James," pointed out Rose mildly. "There's nothing wrong with your... your Nimbulus 2007."

"It's called the Nimbus 2007, not the Nimbulus," he groaned, "and it's _so_ old." Hugo immediately agreed with his older cousin, shaking his head with wobbly passion. "So old," he echoed.

"Hey!" called out a voice cheerfully, and all four turned to see their cousins Molly and Lucy approaching.

"Hey!"

Ginny smiled at the children, feeling a sudden sharp pang of nostalgia for youth and the days when she and her brothers would run around in the backyard and play Quidditch. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and wandered to the kitchen (also hoping, it must be said, to avoid Percy who had just arrived with Audrey and who would no doubt begin talking loudly about broomstick regulations soon), wondering where Victoire was – probably with Teddy, she decided – and where Dominique and Louis were. George and Angelina were due to arrive soon, too, with Fred and Roxanne. She wished with a sudden painful intake of breath that her late brother Fred was here, too, but she exhaled and let the old grief sink back to its time-softened cage.

She looked up and for the first time noticed that Albus was standing in front of her, staring out of the kitchen doorway. At first she thought he was looking at the beach, but then realized that he was looking towards the garden.

"Al," she said softly, and he jumped guiltily, looking at her. "Why aren't you with the others? I'm sure they'd be glad to see you."

Albus nodded distractedly and looked out towards the garden again. Ginny arched an eyebrow. "What're you looking at?"

He turned his green eyes – eyes remarkably like Harry's – towards his mother and frowned thoughtfully. "Dad," he said, finally. "He's... he's in the garden, or something. I don't want to disturb him, but..." Albus trailed off. "What's he doing, Mum?"

And then Ginny understood. "Come on," she said quietly, taking her son by the hand, and although he too old at thirteen to be treated like a child he let her. "Let's go outside."

They crept through the snowy darkness and listened as the ocean roared peacefully in the winter chill. Most of the plants had died for the winter, sleeping until they could be woken in the spring, but Shell Cottage's garden was still a beautiful place. But despite the beauty Ginny and Albus didn't linger in the salty, cold air, hurrying instead towards Harry.

He was sitting in the snow, his back to them, and Albus wondered again what he was doing. Mother and son finally reached him and Albus sat down next to his father in the snow. Ginny put her hand comfortingly on her husband's shoulder as if to say, _I'm here, I love you,_ and then walked back into the warm house. Having delivered her son safely to his father, she felt that there was nothing more she could do to abate Harry's grief.

"Dad?" said Albus softly, and Harry looked over at him. In alarm, Albus realized that his father was crying gently, tears streaking down his face, leaving a trail to his jaw and occasionally splashing onto his glasses. Albus had never seen his dad cry before, and he felt unnerved and a little frightened. "Dad! What's...what's wrong?"

Harry put a hand on Albus's arm and squeezed it. Then he gestured to a small white stone that was lying peacefully between two trees, protecting a mound of dirt. "A great friend of mine died here," Harry said quietly, tears still rubbing the wound freshly raw after more than twenty years.

Albus strained his eyes and realized with surprise that the stone had writing on it. It was dark out, and the writing was messy, but the white stone absorbed the moonlight and whispered it back out and Albus could just make out what it said. "Here lies Dobby, a free elf," he murmured. Then he looked at his dad.

"You're crying for an elf?" he asked, confused. "An elf... like Kreacher?"

Harry nodded, smiling slightly at his son's bafflement. "Not just an elf," he corrected. "A friend."

Albus had to think for a moment, and then he remembered. He made a quiet _oh_ sound, and then said, "Wasn't Dobby the one who you freed? From Scorpius's father? And then, didn't he rescue you or something?"

"Well," said Harry with a quiet laugh, standing up and shaking the snow off himself, "It was actually Scorpius's grandfather that I freed Dobby from, and yes, he did save me. Lots of times, actually, although between you and me, the first time he tried to save me he nearly killed me."

Albus's eyes were now nearly as large as Hugo's had been. "Really?"

"Mhm," agreed Harry, now helping Albus up too. "It was in my second year, and I was at my Aunt's and Uncle's house – you remember your Great-Aunt and Uncle, right? And your second cousin Dudley? – well, I was at their house during the summer like always, having a miserable time, and they were having an important guest over. I was shut in my room but Dobby appeared out of nowhere..."

As Harry reminisced softly to his son they walked back inside out of the cold, and a quiet, gleeful voice on the chilled breeze seemed to whisper happily, "Harry...Potter...!"


End file.
